


A Christmas Miracle

by theglitterati



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, M/M, Office Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: “we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me i don’t know how to act around you now”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all, and especially to my beta [Carol](http://ronnlynch.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Original prompt located [here](http://bravenry.tumblr.com/post/133627477715/im-always-a-slut-for-a-christmas-au-i-know-we).

The company holiday party was always a week before Christmas. Fifteen years ago, it would have been the day the employees got their Christmas bonus cheques, and everyone would have been drinking themselves into oblivion in celebration. Though the party had remained constant, the Christmas cheques had disappeared. Now, it seemed that the party was meant to be a distraction from the fact that no one got a Christmas bonus cheque anymore. The drinking, however, remained.

Only the higher-ups who had been at the company long enough to remember the old days knew about this. The young employees who made up much of the company’s underpaid and overworked staff were just glad that they had a job to pay for their families’ Christmas presents at all.

Office Christmas parties aren’t exactly the end-all-be-all of holiday celebrations. This particular one failed to capture much of the Christmas spirit; instead, there was Christmas music played from the receptionist’s computer and a few sad decorations someone had pulled out of the storage closet. The highlight of the party was the bar and potluck dinner (the company had provided the food, once upon a time) in the conference room, around which most of the guests were lingering.

There were a few others scattered throughout the rest of the office. In a corner, a tall black man with dreadlocks and his shorter redheaded friend were trying to round people up for a poker game. Behind a particularly tall filing cabinet in the sales department, the boss’s pretty daughter was kissing her freckly brunette boyfriend. And just outside the conference room, a blonde man with curly hair was arguing with the boss himself.

“Mr. Valjean, Sir, if you would just consider what I wrote in my report,” the man was saying, “surely you would understand why having a gender neutral employee washroom is necessary.”

Valjean wasn’t impressed. He thought this employee a particularly dedicated member of his team, but at times, he could be downright irritating. “Enjolras, please,” he said. “I’ve told you that we will discuss this in the new year.”

Enjolras was not so easily put off. “But, sir—”

Their conversation was interrupted then by a black-haired man in a shabby suit who smelt strongly of whiskey. “Here, Enjolras, I’ve made you a drink,” he said, passing over a tumbler filled with a cream-coloured liquid. “Eggnog and rum.”

Enjolras took a sniff of the glass and made a face.

“Alright,” the other man conceded, shrugging, “it’s mostly rum. I thought you could use a little holiday cheer.”

“I don’t want—”

“You know what,” Valjean interrupted. “I think Grantaire is right. Enjoy yourself, Enjolras.” He began to walk away. “And, please, don’t bother me about the washrooms again tonight.”

Enjolras’s mouth hung open as he watched his boss retreat. Then he rounded on Grantaire.

“What is the matter with you?” he said fiercely. “Why must you constantly sabotage me!?”

Grantaire looked confounded. “I thought you would be thanking me for stopping you from sabotaging yourself.”

Enjolras fumed. “Why would I ever thank you for getting in the way of my conversation with Valjean? This must be the twentieth time you’ve interrupted one of our discussions.”

Grantaire smirked at him. He swayed a little from the drink before launching into a tirade. “Because it’s Christmas, you idiot; you really don’t have a single ounce of social skills in your head.” Enjolras wasn’t getting the point, so Grantaire continued. “No one wants to be bothered at a party about wheelchair-accessible washrooms or—”

“Gender neutral washrooms—”

“ _Whatever._ It’s after five, and it’s not the time for that kind of discussion anymore. If you keep trying to pester Valjean about these things when he’s off the clock, you’re going to get on his bad side. Or, more on his bad side than you already are. You need to find the right time for these kind of meetings, and since you’re clearly incapable of doing it yourself, I’ve taken it upon myself to do it for you.”

Enjolras just stared at him for a moment. First of all, he was amazed (as always) that Grantaire could be so articulate when under the influence of alcohol. Second, he was struck by the fact that Grantaire took so much notice of him, and not in the negative way that he had thought.

“If what you’re saying is true” – and Enjolras had a sinking feeling that Grantaire was indeed correct – “then why do you bother? You and I have never gotten along; why don’t you just allow me to make a pest of myself?”

Grantaire hesitated a moment, and in that time, they were interrupted by two of their rowdiest coworkers, Joly and Lesgles, who came bearing an unwelcome surprise.

“Mistletoe!” Joly practically screamed; he was clearly very tipsy. Lesgles produced the plant and held it high over Grantaire and Enjolras’s heads, beaming. “Now you two have to kiss!” Joly dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, and was about to shove the mistletoe away, when Grantaire surprised him by grabbing him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him in for a kiss.

It was a great kiss. It would have been better if Grantaire didn’t taste like an open bar, and if Enjolras hadn’t been too shocked to kiss back, but it was still good enough to leave Enjolras dizzy and weak-kneed when Grantaire finally relented.

Enjolras could hear Joly and Lesgles shrieking beside them, but Grantaire only pulled back a few inches, so Enjolras’s focus remained on his face. Grantaire still had him by his collar.

“You want to know why I do all this for you?” Grantaire asked in a low growl. Then he pulled Enjolras closer, moving his mouth to Enjolras’s ear.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, that’s why,” he whispered. Then he pushed Enjolras away from him, hard enough that Enjolras almost fell against a nearby desk, and stormed off, perhaps to a different part of the office, perhaps out of the party completely. Enjolras stared after him, frozen still as a statue.

***

That night, Enjolras had a very difficult time getting to sleep. His mind ran in circles, revisiting every conversation he and Grantaire had ever had, every look they had ever exchanged, searching for evidence of his reported love. Enjolras could find almost nothing in Grantaire’s expressions or words that would have ever suggested that he was in love with him; indeed, he often behaved as though he despised Enjolras.

There were memories, though, certain memories that fit into place. Enjolras could, now that he thought about it, remember several tense conversations between him and Valjean that Grantaire had diffused. He also remembered a time when he had been sick for days but still coming into work, and an anonymous bowl of chicken soup had been left on his desk, with a note that simply said _feel better_. Enjolras had thought at the time that the handwriting on the note had resembled Grantaire’s, but had dismissed the thought immediately for its implausibility.

Finally, he remembered Grantaire’s first words to him on his first day at the office, before they had even known each other’s names. Grantaire had been the one to bring him to his desk, and Enjolras must have looked nervous (he had certainly felt nervous) because Grantaire had squeezed his arm and said, “You look like you’re gonna do great things, Apollo.” While the nickname had stuck, much to Enjolras’s dismay, he hadn’t thought about the rest of the words in years.

After a fitful night of sleep, Enjolras woke in the morning knowing what he had to do.

He knocked on Grantaire’s door at 9:03 a.m. – he wasn’t a believer in procrastination.

“Come in,” Grantaire called, his voice hoarse.

Enjolras let himself in, and the pleasant look that had been on Grantaire’s face when he first opened the door faded quickly.

“I’m actually very busy right now,” Grantaire mumbled, busying himself with papers on his desk.

“You just got here,” Enjolras shot back. “And we really need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” Grantaire said. “Look, last night was a mistake, okay? A classic drunken mistake. I just—”

“I came here to ask you on a date,” Enjolras said bluntly, cutting off Grantaire’s blabbering excuses. He let Grantaire gawk at him for a minute before asking, “Do you still think it was a mistake?”

Enjolras could see Grantaire swallow from across the room. “No,” he finally said.

“Good,” Enjolras said curtly. “Are you free tonight?”

Grantaire nodded.

“Pick me up at my apartment at seven,” Enjolras said. “You can get my address from HR. I’m a vegetarian, so choose the restaurant accordingly. And if you’re the type to buy flowers, carnations are my favourite.”

Grantaire just nodded, his jaw slack and his eyes bulging. Enjolras so enjoyed the silly, dumbfounded look on his face that he winked at him before leaving the room, just to see Grantaire’s reaction.

***

Twelve hours later, Grantaire had Enjolras (who was holding a bouquet of carnations) pinned against the wall of his apartment building and was kissing him eagerly.

“I can’t believe you thought I hated you all this time,” Grantaire whispered against Enjolras’s collarbone. “We could have been doing this for years.”

Enjolras laughed, feeling light-headed and floaty. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming with your feelings.”

“I don’t know if you know this,” Grantaire said, “but you can be a bit intimidating. I never thought you would feel the same way.”

“Well,” Enjolras said, nipping at Grantaire’s bottom lip, “you thought wrong.”

“Hallelujah for drunken confessions,” Grantaire laughed. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Enjolras hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Come inside,” he said.

“For coffee, or for sex?” Grantaire asked cheekily.

Enjolras considered for a moment. “Both?”

Grantaire’s eyes went wide. “Both sounds incredible,” he choked out.

Enjolras took him by the hand and led him to the door of the building. Grantaire turned and looked back at the snowy street, hardly believing his luck.

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!” he called out giddily before following Enjolras inside.


End file.
